Going, Going, Gone
by blame it on the government
Summary: Pain. It's what House has to live with. All the same, it's surprising when a new pain manifests itself in his chest. What if this pain is more than it seems? What if it makes him reconsider his life, and how he lives it?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I've decided to add a prologue because that just sounds like fun!

Here's the prologue:

Dear Chase, Foreman, and Cameron, 

You guys have been kind to me for so long, and, god this doesn't sound like me at all, I want to thank you for being there for me…I've been a jerk to you guys for so long…I didn't really deserve you're kindness. You guys are some of the most talented and committed doctors I've ever worked with, and this team worked well together. We ended up saving many lives together, even if we didn't save all of them.

_I don't know how you guys feel right now… if you're happy, or if you're sad. I mean you guys could be happy. I wouldn't blame you. If I were you guys and if I never had to see myself again, I would be pretty happy. You have every right to be. _

_I know, I know… This letter isn't very coherent right now, is it? Can you blame me? I'm all drugged up right now. I probably couldn't name all the drugs Wilson has me on right now. There's, like, a half a dozen pain meds here. That's good for my leg, but not so good for thinking clearly. _

_Are you guys planning on staying at the Hospital, or are you going to find work somewhere else? I have some advice for you: stay together. You guys work so well together, and you will continue to, even if I'm not there to oversee everything. _

_I just want to tell you that I… I love you guys. You made my life worth living. I loved to come to work and see you guys, to work with you. It was the most enjoyable part of everything in my life. If I could change anything in the years that I knew you guys, I wouldn't change one thing. _

_Anyway, I guess I should wrap it up now. Just take what I said to heart, and I hope that you can forgive me for being such an ass. I'm deeply sorry… Yes, I'm apologizing; something I know that you guys thought would never happened. I'll tell you something: this whole experience has changed me. It can change even the weirdest guy. _

_Anyhow, I guess this is it. This is goodbye. _

_Goodbye, _

_Gregory House_

_Dear Wilson, _

_You're my buddy, my best friend, and my prescribing doctor. Thanks for the meds, _

_House_

_P.S. Thanks for being there for me. It really means a lot to me, especially since I've been such a jerk to you. _


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm no doctor. If you are one, then you will probably see a lot of mistakes and flaws in my descriptions of diseases and treatments. I'm doing a lot of research for this story, and I'm trying to do the best that I can. I'm only 14, so please cut my some slack!

Here's the story:

Pain.

Pain was Dr. Gregory House's constant companion. It was with him twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Sometimes, with the help of narcotic pain-relievers, the pain could be muffled, but it never, ever went completely away. That was the exact reason why he didn't think that it was odd when a severe attack of pain over came him in the middle of the night, waking him up.

House sat up in his bed, his intention to massage his leg to help the pain, but as his hands touched his leg, he realized that it wasn't there the intense pain was coming from. Still half-asleep, he concentrated on his discomfort, trying to find where it was generating from. Suddenly, he realized that the pain was coming from his chest. It was a dull, thudding pain, and it hurt. Alarmed, he sat up. Was he having a heart attack?

House took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. If he were having a heart attack, then panicking wouldn't help. As he composed himself, the chest pain subsided. _I'm all right_, House thought to himself. _I'll just run some tests tomorrow and see. I'm all right. _Assured, House went back to sleep.

In the morning, House had almost no recollection of the pain attack of the night before. He briefly remembered severe pain, and his panic, but he could not remember why he was panicking at pain. He was always in pain. He shook it off, and went to work, a place where he could throw himself in other people's problems so he wouldn't have to think about his.

"Forty-year-old with pain in the lower portion of his back," Dr. Cameron said as House entered the room.

House snorted. "Kidney stones. That's obvious. Go get a urine sample, and don't come back until you tell Cuddy that I want a real case."

For a moment, everyone just stood and looked at their boss.

"What!" House asked. "Do I have something in my teeth?"

"No," Cameron answered. "It's just that it doesn't look like any case of Kidney Stones that I've seen. And you haven't even looked at his file."

"Well, I guess you haven't seen that many, and I don't need to look at the stupid file to know a simple case of Kidney Stones."

Foreman rolled his eyes.

"Foreman!" House shouted across the room. "Go help Cameron with that urine sample."

"God, it's only urine," Foreman mumbled under his breath, but, all the same, walked out of the room with Cameron following in his wake.

"What do I have to do to get some quality service around here?" House huffed to Chase.

"Ummmm…" Chase tried to reply, but House cut him off.

"What? You don't think it's Kidney Stones either? Gosh, where's the loyalty?"

"I mean he seems in a lot of pain, and I think it's something more serious," Chase try to tell to House, but House left the room.

"Why don't you talk to someone who cares?" House called down the hallway.

"…And House, the guy's all sweaty and… House, are you okay?"

House had stopped about fifteen feet outside the room he had just left, gasping for breath, and clutching his chest.

"Yeah, never better… Thanks for asking, Mommy," House smirked through gasps of breath.

If Chase knew exactly what House was expierincing, he wouldn't have thought that his boss was 'just fine'. The same dull, thudding pain was back, and this time it was accompanied with shortness of breath. But, House being House, gave a couple quick coughs, and continued walking down the hallway towards the elevator.

"Where are you going?" Chase asked.

"To talk to Cuddy. I need a better case."

Before he knew it, House found himself back at his house. He was in worse shape than he had been that morning. He had that pain in his chest, and this time it was persistent. On top of that, he couldn't walk more than a couple of feet without getting terribly short of breath. And now he had a cough, a cough that shook his lungs and sent pain throughout the body with every intake of breath. _God, what's wrong with me? _House thought to himself, but every time he did, he just assured himself that it was just the flu, or another viral infection, and it would clear itself up in no time. With that thought stuck in his brain, House went to sleep, exhausted from his day of agony.

When House woke up, he thought he was going to die. His whole body ached, and all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. When he finally got himself up, he checked his temperature, and was surprised to find that he had a temperature, a surprisingly high temperature. He didn't want to go to the hospital, but he knew that if he had something serious, it would be smart to get it checked out first.

"Damn," House whispered to himself as Chase entered the exam room. Of all the doctors in the hospital, Chase had to be his.

"Well, Hello, House. What seems to be the problem?" Chase greeted his boss.

"Why, I don't know why I'm here!" House feigned confusion as he looked around the room.

"It says on your chart that you have a temperature of 103.5. That's pretty high… And it also says that you've been coughing a lot… All right, let's have a listen." Chase listen to House breathe for several moments with his stethoscope. "There's a lot of crackling and wheezing going around. Have you been coughing up any blood?" 

"Just a little bit," House confessed.

"Then, I'm going to say that it's pneumonia. I'm going to prescribe an antibiotic. Take it easy for a couple of weeks, all right?"

House rolled his eyes. "All wite," he feigned baby-talked. "I'll twake it's easy, Mommy."

"Seriously, House. If you don't stop running around for a while, you could end up in the hospital, or kill yourself or something."

"All right, all right," House replied, rolling his eyes. "Just give me the prescription, and I'll go. If you just wanted to get rid of me why didn't you just say so, geez!"

It was surprisingly for House to stay home. He felt increasingly worse each day, even with the antibiotic. But it didn't concern him. _It'll clear up_ He said to himself every night when he went to sleep.

Fin

Reviews are much appreciated! Tell me what you think! Predictions are always welcome!

Thanks for reading,

Blame it on the Government


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Before I begin the story, I would like to thank my wonderful reviewers. You guys inspired me to continue this story, and is therefore dedicated to you. And, yes, the story will continue. I'm sorry for the confusion over the first chapter…

…And…

…Here's the second chapter:

Before he knew it, it was time for House to return to work. Usually, he would be enthused about it, perhaps even return to work early. But this time, House didn't want to go to work. He was still very ill, still coughing up blood, and still in pain. He knew that his team would suspect something was wrong with him if he didn't show up, so he gritted his teeth and went.

"House, are you all right," Cameron asked as House walked in.

"Of course…" House replied, trying not to cough. "What are you? My mom?"

"I mean, you just looked-," Cameron started.

"Wild party, heavy drinking… lots of hookers," House chortled with a slight smile. If they thought he was hung over, then they would let it go, perhaps not bring it up again.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Chase asked. "I mean pneumonia can go on longer than just a couple weeks, especially if you've been exerting yourself. Maybe I should give you some more antibiotics."

"No, no, I'm fine." House nodded his head and sat down.

"If you need some more time, none of us are going to mind," Foreman spoke up for the first time, eyeing his boss with curiosity.

House considered it for a few moments. He didn't want to appear weak, but he felt like crap. And maybe his pneumonia wasn't completely cured… If that were the case, then it would be best to get back in bed.

"Okay, bye," House said as he got up to leave.

"Wait," Foreman called as House started towards the door. "You're just leaving?"

"Yeah…is there a problem with that?"

"No, I just thought you would want to at least take a look at the case we have before you decided to leave."

"Well, you guessed wrong." With that, he pulled himself through the door.

Outside in the hallway, House tried to regulate his breathing. The pain was intense, in his leg and in his chest. His leg hurt more than usual, not that that was unusual; just extremely painful. After a few moments of rest, he made his way to the elevator.

On his way out the door, House ran into none other than Cuddy herself.

"House," Cuddy called down hallway as House was waling out the door. House, being himself, pretended not to hear her, and continued on his way. But, of course, the dean was much faster than her ill employee, so she caught up with House just outside of the Hospital.

"House, Cameron just told me that you had to leave. Are you all right?"

"Just fine. It's very nice to see, too."

"I mean it. House, if there's something going on with you, it wouldn't hurt to talk about it." The expression on Cuddy's was a mixture of pleading, begging, and pity. It would make even the coldest heart melt into a puddle. But since House claimed he had no heart, he was pretty much immune to Cuddy's looks.

"I'll remember that. You know, I would love to chat, but I got to go. Things to do, you know?"

"What could you possibly be doing besides going home and sleeping?"

"Um, I don't know. Going home and not sleeping?"

"House, just remember, if you ever want to talk, I'm here, and so is Wilson. Just remember, please?" But House had already walked away.

Once again at his house, House was almost in panic mode. Now, everybody knew that something was wrong with him, and he didn't even know what was wrong with himself. Taking deep breaths, he started doing what he did best: diagnosing. He took a pad of paper and a pen, and began to write down all of his symptoms. At the end of fifteen minutes, the paper looked something like this:

Chest pain

Coughing up blood

Pneumonia

A hoarse voice

Shortness of breath

He couldn't think of any more symptoms. He put the paper down, and started to think. Well, it was something that was most likely lung related, but what could it be? He thought, and he thought. There was a diagnosis that was in his mind, but he wouldn't admit it, because if he had what he thought he had… well, it just couldn't be possible. After a good hour of thinking, House decided that he would go to sleep, and think about in the morning.

The next day, House was in a great deal of pain. Not only did his chest hurt, but also his back was killing him, and so were his ribs. The pain in the unusual spots just confirmed his dreadful diagnoses that he had almost made the day before, but he wouldn't admit it yet. He couldn't. On his list, he added back pain, and bone pain, and he racked his brain for another disease it would be. Some matched, but not nearly as well as the horrible disease he was thinking about.

"I should call someone," House muttered to himself, distracted, as he looked as his list. "Wilson would probably be the best one to handle this, but Chase could keep a secret, and he wouldn't care too much… WAIT!" House stopped himself from admitting that he had a dangerous disease. He was House. He didn't give up that easily. He would continue to search for the right diagnosis. But the more he thought, the more it seemed that he was right, that this disease was what he had. Hesitantly, almost shamefully, House picked up the phone and dialed Wilson's number.

"Hello," Wilson's cherry voice sounded through the receiver.

"Wilson," House replied. "It's House… we need to talk…"

The End…of the chapter

Okay, that's the end of this chapter. I love reviews, and if you would be ever so kind as to tell me what you think, I would be in your eternal debt. Well, not really, but I would really like it.

Thanks for reading my story,

Blame it on the Government


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter three:

"House!" Wilson said, surprised. "What's up?"

"Can you keep a secret," House nearly whispered through his hoarse voice.

"What? Um… yeah. Of course… What's going on?"

"I don't know if you've heard, but I've been pretty sick these past couple of weeks."

"I know. Cuddy was telling me about your pneumonia, and everything. You're all right now, right?"

"What do you think?" House snapped before going into a violent attack of coughing. It lasted several moments, and it left him breathing quite heavily.

"House?" Asked Wilson, concern in his voice. "Are you all right?"

"What do you think I'm calling you for if I wasn't all right?" said House between deep breaths.

"To say 'hello', maybe…"

"I'm sick, Wilson. And I think I'm sicker than anyone thought."

"WOW!" Wilson exclaimed in mock surprise. "Is this House asking for help? I thought I would never see the day."

"I can just hang the phone up now, if you want."

"NO… no. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. What is it, House? I'm listening."

"Like I was saying, I think I'm a lot sicker than anyone thought."

"What do you think you're sick with?"

House tried to answer Wilson, but he couldn't call the disease my its name. He tried once again, but to no success.

"What are the symptoms?" Wilson asked, obviously sensing his friend's discomfort.

"Symptoms…" House muttered to himself as he looked around for his pad of paper. "Ah, yes… here it is." House read off the list.

"You know what that sounds like?" Wilson asked as soon as House was finished.

"Yes, I do."

"I'm glad you called me, then."

"So, what happens now?"

"We need to get you into the Hospital as soon as possible to run some tests, and officially diagnose your… disease."

"When?" House asked.

"As soon as possible."

"How about tomorrow?"

"No. We need to do it today."

"Today?"

"Yeah, today. Meet me in my office in an hour."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes," replied Wilson with authority. "We need to diagnose you so we can get you on a treatment. If we don't, then your condition could get much, much worse."

"But will a day really matter?"

"House," Wilson nearly roared. "I have a lot of experience with this type of thing. Sometimes, a day could mean the difference between life and death. You need to come right now."

"All right." House gave in. He hurt too much to argue about it, and on top of that, Wilson was right. A day could mean if he lived or died young. "I'll see you in an hour," Said House, hanging the phone up.

House wanted to cry. He knew that the diagnoses hadn't been made yet, but now that another doctor thought he had the same ailment, it made it seem more confirmed. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

"Stop it," he angrily growled to himself. "Stop crying." But he couldn't stop. He let the tears fall freely, crying his stress out. As he cried, he was angry, angry for this disease that could, potentially, kill him, and angry for himself for crying. All of a sudden, House's phone rang. It was Wilson.

"Yeah, what do you want?" House hissed into the receiver.

"House, where are you? You where supposed to be in my office fifteen minutes ago. What happened?"

"I'll be right there," House replied swiftly, hanging up.

He couldn't believe that he had cried for so long. He looked at his watched and he realized how long he had actually been crying for. He cursed himself, getting up to go to the Hospital.

"House, what took you so long?" Wilson greeted House as he saw the ill man approaching his office. "Wow, you look…terrible."

"Yeah, I know. Can we just get down to business?" Came House's terse reply.

"Sure. I've scheduled an MRI in about… a half an hour, so that should give us time to get the physical examine over—."

"Whatever. Can we just get this done with?" House said, cutting Wilson off.

"All right."

Wilson took his time listening to House breathe, questioning him, almost unnecessarily, about his medical history as he did so.

"You're breathing is pretty raspy," Wilson noted as he removed the stethoscope from House's chest. "The MRI should give us some insight on what is causing all of this."

"So, it might not be…" House started.

"Might not, but it's definitely something."

"You didn't tell anyone about this, did you?" Asked House with a suspicious eye.

"No…Honestly, I didn't have the time. I had to squeeze some appointments together to make room for you. No, I haven't told a soul. That's one thing you don't have to worry about right now."

"Will you tell anyone?"

"Look, House," Wilson started, looking House in the eye. "If this does turn out to be something serious, I might have to tell someone. It might be Cuddy, or a member of your team. It's not because I don't care about you. It's because I care too much. If another doctor can help you, then I will tell them."

"But what if I want to keep it a secret?"

"Are you that stubborn?"

House looked at Wilson earnestly. "Yeah. You've known me for long enough to know that I am."

"It's time for your MRI. Come on, let's go," Wilson said as he glanced at his watch, ushering House out his office.

It was hard for House to keep up with Wilson as they hurried down the corridor. Usually, it was hard for House to keep up because of his leg, but now that he was ill as well, it was truly a difficult task. He hadn't gone twenty feet before he was huffing and puffing, trying to get air into his lungs.

"You're in pretty bad shape, House," Wilson observed as he escorted his friend.

"Yeah, I know."

"I mean I knew you were sick, but not this bad off…"

"Look!" House shouted, bringing attention to himself. "I know I'm sick. Will you just stop talking about it?"

Wilson looked at his friend with concern. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that it bugged you so much."

"If you were sick, you'd be going crazy, too."

The two walked some more, bringing themselves to the MRI room.

"It's time, House. Come on, let's get you into this thing," Wilson said, assisting House with his cane, getting him situated on the bench.

"Are you ready?" Wilson asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," replied House as he slid into the cold, dark, slightly scary machine.

The end… of the chapter.

Thank you for reading my update!

Blame it on the Government


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you so much to anyone who reviewed. I absolutely love reviews, and every one I get encourages me to continue to write. Okay, on with the story.

Chapter four:

The MRI took way too long. For House, stuck in the machine, it seemed to go forever, and for Wilson, looking at the pictures on the screen, it was like a nightmare. Both of them wanted it to end. It didn't help either of them that House yelled every few minutes "Is it over with yet?". Wilson was almost out of patience, and he would have shouted at his friend to shut up he hadn't known what the MRI revealed.

"Is it over with yet?" House called for the final time.

"Yeah," Wilson replied. "I have all the information that I need to know."

House rolled his eyes at Wilson as he was slid out of the machine.

"Finally!" House exclaimed moodily, reaching for his cane. "What does the MRI have to say?"

"I think we should go back to my office to talk," Wilson said, eyeing his friend with pity.

All of a sudden, House lost his comic look. He was serious in a second's time.

"What is it?" He whispered. "Is it…?"

"We should go to my office to talk," Was all Wilson said.

House just nodded, and slid of the bench.

"It's only in one lung, as far as I tell," Wilson explained to House once they were back in Wilson's office. "But that doesn't mean that it hasn't spread."

"It's operable, right?" House asked, looking at the picture.

"Yeah, but we're going to have to operate really soon, or it won't be."

"Is the tumor… is it cancerous?"

"You know as well as I do, House. It could be benign, or… malignant. We won't know until we biopsy it."

The two men sat in a thoughtful silence for a few moments, both contemplating the future. It was Wilson who finally broke the silence.

"I'm going to tell Cuddy," He said, looking at House.

"No… Why?"

"I'm sorry, House, but I'm going to have to tell her, and maybe a lot of other doctors, too. There's the surgery we have to arrange, treatment plans… a lot of things… other doctors are going to have to know."

"Okay," House whispered after a moments thought. "All right. Can I go home now?"

"Yeah," Wilson said, avoiding House's gaze. "I'll arrange everything. I'll call you later to you what the plans are."

House got up without even saying goodbye, leaving Wilson to contemplate his friend's future.

Back at his house, House settled onto his cough, popped a few Vicodins in his mouth, and flipped the TV on. He knew that a tumor in his lung was probably it, but it was still a great shock to have it confirmed by another doctor _and _an MRI. The only thing that kept him from having a nervous break down was the fact that it hadn't been diagnosed as cancer… yet.

The TV show that House was watching was a cheesy rerun of a game show, but he didn't know it. He was hardly aware of his surroundings, hardly aware of where he was. He thought about his whole life, from when he was a small child, to the last decade. He knew, perhaps more than any other doctor in the hospital (save Wilson), what a tumor meant. Even if it wasn't cancerous, it could have manifested itself in other organs. It might prove fatal if they were to remove a piece of tumor from the wrong organ. He shuddered as he thought what all could go wrong. If it was cancerous… he didn't even want to think about that… But all the same, his mind was appraising the whole process…

If it was cancerous, they would have to remove the tumor, maybe even a part of his lung, just to make sure the cancer was gone. Then, regardless if they found more cancer or not, he would have to have chemotherapy, loose all his hair, and have doctors fuss all over him. It was like a nightmare that he couldn't wake from.

House would have gone on all night like that if the phone hadn't rung.

"Hello?" House asked picking up the phone.

"House, it's Wilson."

"Oh, hi."

"You sound excited."

"Cut the crap, and tell me when my surgery is," House growled.

"First thing Monday morning," Wilson replied cheerfully to House's rude command.

House was amazed. His surgery would be in three days. Sometime surgeries like this took several days to plan.

"Who's doing the surgery?" House asked.

"I don't think you've met him," Wilson replied.

"So? I'd still like to know who's cutting into my body."

"Dr. James."

"I've never met him… I don't know if I like the idea of a perfect stranger cutting into my body."

"House… Every surgeon you know hates you. It would be very easy for another doctor to 'accidentally' slip."

"You have a good point. So Monday morning."

"Yes."

"All right, see you then."

Monday morning came too soon for House. The weekend was a blur of pain and bad feelings. Before he knew it, House was in a hospital gown in a hospital room, waiting to be taken into surgery. Wilson was there to see his friend off.

"Are you ready?" Wilson asked.

"No, but does that really matter?" House replied moodily.

All of a sudden there was a knock on the door.

"I guess it's time," House whispered. He braced himself… as four doctors entered the room.

"You told them what room I'm in?" House hissed at Wilson. Chase, Cameron, Foreman, and Cuddy stood at the foot of his bed.

"We only wanted to see you before you went into surgery," Cuddy explained. "I think your team has the right to know why their boss has been missing work."

"So, it's really true," Cameron whispered, looking down at the floor. "I mean this isn't a trick to get pain relievers, is it?"

"It's true," replied Wilson. "I took the MRI myself."

She nodded, somewhat regretfully.

"We hope that all goes well," Foreman said in a matter-of-fact tone, the tone he reserved for the awkward moments when nobody knew what to say.

Chase said nothing throughout the whole conversation. He just stood in the background, staring at something only he could see.

A seventh person entered the room. It was a nurse, coming to take House to the operating room.

"I guess this is it," House said as he was wheeled out of the room.

"Count backwards from ten," The doctor said as he placed a mask on his face. House was unconscious before he could get to six.

House woke up in the same hospital room that he had been in before surgery. He was groggy, but not in pain. He waited a few seconds, knowing that the pain would start to shoot, but it didn't. Gingerly, he brought his hand to his chest, trying to feel the stitches, but he found nothing.

"Ah, your awake," Wilson said from the chair besides the bed.

"Yeah, I am… Why don't I have any stitches?"

"Um…"

"Wilson!"

"What?"

"Why don't I have any stitches? Did something go wrong with the surgery?"

"House," Wilson said. "There was no surgery. You started to seize right after they gave you the anesthetic."

The end… of the chapter

Thank you for reading,

Blame it on the Government

P.S. This might be my last update for a while. School starts up again tomorrow, so I might only be able to update once a week.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter five:

"What do you mean I began to seize?" Housed demanded, scrutinizing Wilson.

"I mean you started to have a seizure."

"What happened?"

"I don't know… they went to make the incision and you started to shake—," Wilson started, but House cut him off.

"I know what a seizure is. Why did I have a seizure?" House stared at Wilson with his intense, blue eyes.

Wilson looked at the floor, avoiding House's gaze. It was obvious that he had something to hide.

"I have a theory," Wilson whispered.

House, being House, knew several theories why he could have started to seize, but he knew the one Wilson was thinking about. That one made the most sense out of everything.

"Tell me," House whispered back.

Wilson closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, He was mentally preparing himself for the news he was about to tell.

"You have cancer," Wilson began. "And the cancer has spread to your brain."

House nodded. He had expected as much; after all he was diagnostician.

"What now?" House asked, almost unnecessarily.

"Confirm diagnosis. Run more tests… perhaps do the surgery at a later date."

"But isn't it too late to remove the cancer?"

"House, you know… we might have do a biopsy…" Wilson snuck a glance at a friend. He saw that House was looking down at the ground, a single tear sliding down his cheek. "It might not be cancer," Wilson added hastily after seeing what distress his friend was in.

"How long?" House asked, his voice unwavering.

"What?"

"How long do I have left to live?"

"Come on, House… you're not dying." Wilson let out a nervous laugh.

"HOW LONG," House bellowed, again looking at Wilson with his intense, icy eyes.

"I can't say right now…" Wilson said, but then he saw House's eyes and changed his mind. "Maybe a year, I'd say. I still have to run more tests… this might be treatable, maybe even curable."

"Stop lying, Wilson," House snorted. "You know as well as I do that if cancer spreads from your lungs to your brain, then you have it pretty bad."

"Yeah, I know… I just don't want it to be true…" Wilson drifted off, a tear sliding down his cheek. "You're dying, House. And there's nothing I can do about it. No one can do anything about it…"

"Hey, Wilson, don't cry," House said hastily as his own eyes filled with tears. "Come on, it'll be all right."

Wilson couldn't reply; all he could do was cry. House was an ass… that was a fact that everyone could agree on. But Wilson had to admit that House was always there for him, always had a word for him, even if it was sarcastic. He was going to lose his friend, the only one he had…

"You… You know what the good thing about all this is?" Wilson asked through his tears.

"No, what?" Replied House, not really caring what Wilson had to say.

"You'll get the strongest pain meds out there."

"All that I want?"

"Sure… all that you want."

The two doctors shared a brief smile before turning back to their sorrow. House, surprisingly, wasn't as upset as Wilson. Sure, he was a bit disturbed about the dying thing, but he would get to live, virtually, pain free for the rest of his life. He imagined himself half stoned on his couch with a cocktail of painkillers in his hand… Yes, life would be sweet, even if it was going to be cut short.

"How would you like some marijuana, House?" Wilson asked his friend, disturbing House from his thoughts.

"Are you asking me to smoke a joint with you?" House asked, a little sarcastic, but mostly excited.

"No… I was talking about prescribing marijuana in a pill form for pain… sound cool?"

"I'd rather smoke it."

"I'm sure it could be arranged," Wilson said with a wry smile.

Wilson looked at House, seeing his obvious delight in all the pain meds he would be allowed. It almost broke Wilson's heart… a man who was excited about cancer for the pain meds… either he was severely addicted or in a lot of pain. Wilson chose to go with the latter.

"I can I go home now?" House asked.

"Not right now. We'll have to run some tests and monitor you for a while. Then, can go home."

"Look, Wilson, I know that you want to run some tests on me very badly, but I want to go home before the whole hospital hears about… my condition."

"Well, um, about that…"

"You… you told Cuddy, didn't you?" House asked, a ping of annoyance growing in his chest.

"Yes, I didn't think I had any other choice…"

"How about not telling her?"

In the midst of the argument, neither doctor noticed as a younger, female doctor entered the room. Dr. Cameron. She was sent as a spy, to see House, to see if it was really true. From what she saw, it was. House was dying. Cameron had never seen him look so sorry. His face was sunken in with bags under his eyes. He looked tired, incredibly tired. He looked… sick. For the first time, it hit Cameron that House wasn't going to be all right. To her, House always seemed impenetrable, like an Iron Clad War Ship, and it was scary seeing him like this, so…vulnerable. Finally, House spotted her standing quietly in the corner.

"Hello," House greeted, racking his brain for something sarcastic to say. For once in his life, he thought of nothing.

"Hi," Cameron replied, barely above a whisper. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm just fine," Bellowed House. "Besides this cancer thing, I'm fine and dandy."

Cameron winced at the word 'cancer'. She knew what he had, had discussed it with Cuddy, and Chase, and Foreman, but hearing House say made it sound so real. Everyone she knew who had cancer had been a patient, just a person who made it possible for her to have a job. She never thought she would know someone who had cancer, and she didn't think it would be House.

"Are you all right?" Wilson asked Cameron, seeing her stare at a thought only she could see.

"I'm fine," Cameron smiled, and stole out of the room.

The End of the Chapter

I'm sorry that it took so long to get this update up, but I've had some… difficulties. I just got my three-week progress report last week and here are my grades:

Spanish: 91

History: 101

Creative Writing: 99

Band: 96

Science: 95

English: 95

Algebra: 48

Yes, you saw my Algebra grade… a 48… a have to get my grade to at least a 70 before I can write another chapter… hello tutorials and extra credit homework assignments… fun! Anyway, thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated!

Blame it on the Government


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